Harry Potter, Conduit of Worlds
by Squirrel of Shadow
Summary: AU/Crossover, M-Rated for Later Chapters. Lily Potter nee Evans gave not only her life but her Soul for her son, and having never fully trusted Dumbledore to begin with laid down ancient protections that eventually activate when Harry's own magic has grown enough and his desire for a change brings him a new opportunity. !Smart,!Independent,!Grey Harry. Dumbledore!Bashing
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am merely playing with other people's creations, I don't own the game/book/anime/tv-show I am borrowing from, nor am I making any money with this. I am writing for fun and practice, as fan-fiction to be shared with others if I feel like it.

**Chapter 01**

**September 31st, Halloween 1981, Godric's Hollow**

Lily Potter nee Evans had never trusted Dumbledore. She was not a true seer, but she did have a minor talent with divination in the form of premonitions. Those premonitions had saved both her and her husband several times when fighting against death eaters and Voldemort. Those same premonitions lead her to always wandlessly vanish any drink or food offered to her by the headmaster, as well as avoid looking the man in the eyes. Her will was strong, but he was known as a powerful wizard and seeing what fanatical loyalty he inspired, she was more than willing to bet her entire fortune the man was reinforcing such loyalty by potions or legilimency and obliviations.

Unfortunately by the time she became aware of just how dangerous the old man could be, her husband was already a fanatical Dumbledore's man, and she had little way to escape without leaving her husband behind, and taking her young son would have lead to a witch-hunt from Dumbledore, calling her dark and declaring her to be just trying to steal the Potter fortunes after James died in the war. Dumbledore would have portrayed her in colors that would turn the world against her.

So she stayed behind, even as she fought her dread and felt the death's icy chill clenching around her heart, little by little feeling the net tighten around herself and her husband. They were under a fidelius charm that Dumbledore had cast, with the scared little marauder, Peter, as their secret keeper. She had fought that decision asking if it weren't safer for her to be the secret-keeper, but Dumbledore just twinkled his eyes and James told her to trust in the old man.

She had fought as hard as she dared without outright shouting, but they had ignored her, and made Peter Pettigrew their secret keeper. She felt a certainty descend upon their home that day that they would all be dead soon. Rather than fall into despair however, she began to prepare the old rites, keeping things secret from everyone, even her husband couldn't be trusted. It was just her and Harry now, and she was sure she wasn't going to be in this world for long anymore.

"_Blood of my blood, I give my life for you. Blood of my blood, I swear my soul shall always be by your side. Let me become your shield, let my sacrifice become the strongest ward, let my love always touch your heart, and live to become a strong man. I Lily Marie Evans, solemnly swear on my magic I wish my my very essence to be yours, as mother to a son, blood to blood, forevermore. So mote it be."_

Lily had just finished the incantations and gathered away the shattered rune stones arrayed around her son a moment earlier to accomplish the old magic, when she could hear the crash downstairs and James' shouts for her to take Harry and escape. The footsteps were coming. She knew this was it, and steeled her resolve. She would die for Harry, and as her body would fall her soul would embrace her son's soul and become its shield. It might not work, the old magic, blood magic, was not only illegal but obscure, but she had done all she could for her child.

**November 1st, 1981, Gringots**

"As the Chief Warlock of the wizengamot, and the Potter will's executor, I demand that you seal the will away for now. We are living in dangerous times, and I have taken care of the arrangements to protect the young Potter Heir. In the meanwhile, I am assuming the role of his Magical Guardian as well as the Potter proxy in the wizengamot. It is far too dangerous for the will to be read out when the Dark Lord's followers walk freely, and to do so would be treasonous. I am sure you do not want a war at your hands."

The Goblin behind the desk growled frustratedly at Dumbledore but nod his head, accepting the man's words. They knew perfectly well this was illegal but Dumbledore's threats were not too subtle, and he would carry them out if necessary. People were praising the young child for what had happened last night, and there was no way they'd listen to a goblin rather than Dumbledore if the old man claimed the goblins were endangering the boy-who-lived by insisting on opening the Potter will that the old man claimed would expose his guardians and leave the boy as a target.

"Furthermore, I demand the keys to the Potter family vault, the trust vault for young Harry, and the Potter relic vault. I demand these keys are handed to me immediately. Furthermore, the payments from the Potter-owned properties shall be directed to my personal vault from this point on. I shall make sure Mr. Potter's best interests are seen to."

In other words, the old man wanted to empty all but the trust vault, and leave just enough to make the Potter boy feel he had a tie to the magical world and the funding to pay for his education but little else to his name after that. The goblins despised Albus Dumbledore, having seen how he weaseled his way to the orphan vaults of those killed in the war to siphon the funds to his own personal vault, before coming with the ministry to lay claim to those same vaults, taking what little scrap he had left previously and claiming the rest of the money had no doubt already been stolen by greedy goblins or been spent to fund the deatheater agenda.

Yet the goblins were well aware the man's double-faced nature, his subtle and not so subtle games, and even that one attempt to use legilimency on the goblins. The old man had been struck for the one time he dared to try and do this in the bank, shattering his jaw and trying to ban him from Gringots. Threatening the goblins with war, he had forced his way back to the bank however, and even demanded compensation. Holding the threat of a new war over the goblin's head, he forced their hand, though the Goblins kept building up evidence for a time when they could turn it in, hopefully with a champion speaking for them whom the wizards would be willing to listen. Hearing it from goblins would not matter to the wizards, but hearing it from a respectable wizard might.

Yet few had such love and adulation that they could compete with Dumbledore, in truth it might only be one boy, and Dumbledore already sank his greedy claws in the boy, and by ordering the boy's vaults under his control like he had, Dumbledore could even claim goblins were untrustworthy and had already betrayed the boy, even under Veritaserum.

**September 31st 1989, #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey**

The young boy living at the Dursleys looked hardly seven-years old given how small and thin he was, but at nine years of age he was still expected to earn his keep by doing back-breaking labor. Hours of weeding the garden, washing the car, mowing the lawn, cooking meals and cleaning dishes were what most of his days consisted of.

He hadn't even known his name until he was sent to school, being only called 'freak' or 'boy' at home. Having the class laughing at him when he didn't know his own name was an experience that young Harry could have done without, but his cousin's shout of "no his name is freak" had earned a round of laughter on his expense from the other students, but a frown from the teacher. Yet when they said they'd get to the bottom of this, the whole thing just got lost in a few days, and he heard nothing about it again from the adults, only mocking and taunting from the other kids.

Young Harry grew up unloved, unwanted, and mocked, but he was at least not physically abused. Not that his relatives hadn't tried, but when Dudley's arm was twisted into a U-bend and bones shattered at several spots after trying to punch Harry once, and Vernon's punch ending feeling like he had hit a stone wall, fracturing his arm all the way to his shoulder, they had stopped, for a while at least.

In fact, the time when aunt Marge came to visit the Dursleys and let his dog loose, the vicious little biter actually died the moment it tried to chomp on his thigh. There was enough force to send the dog flying to the wall and leave a large crack in the wall's surface, along with breaking the dog's neck. It was a cruel way to die, but the dog was known to bite anyone viciously, and Marge had set it loose on him on purpose.

He had spent a long time in the cupboard suffering since that visit though, barely alive as he was fed just few scraps to keep him at least alive, but the school thought he was ill and unable to attend while Harry was laying in half-awake state, malnourished and bordering the point where his body would have just given up trying to survive its poor state, when something unusual happened.

He had been dreaming of a woman that cared for him, a woman that smiled to him and held his small body up in her arms. That warmth and affection in her eyes had touched him deep in the heart, and he woke up sobbing and crying for his mom. Dursleys didn't care for his crying, always telling him to shut up if he did, but in the lonely confines of his cupboard under the staircase, that dream left him openly sobbing and crying.

"They aren't my family, they just hate me and call me a freak. They've always told me I don't belong here, and they're right, this is not my home!" As he said this loudly in frustration and sorrow, a shattering sensation struck him, a feeling like he was a glass of water that had just hit the hard floor after a fall from the table, shattering to pieces spraying water everywhere. Something in him had broken, and rushed through his whole form. That dream, that loud declaration, and that sensation together was too much, leaving young Harry shuddering and fainting away again.

Even as he did, the cupboard shone with green light coming from his young form, before it burst, and a previously unseen dome of orange light over the Privet Drive number four shattered, fading away, with people all over the street suddenly waking up from their sleep, a rush of memories of seeing the boy toiling long hours in the garden. The boy always being so polite to them yet treated with hatred and loathing. The boy trying to help out or at least stay out of way if he had already been rebuked, and yet that intent hatred they all had felt towards the supposed criminal.

The lies spread about him before had seemed so convincing but now fell apart as they realized in horror just how badly the boy had been treated. They were not alone in this however, as both school teachers and police that had visited the Privet Drive in the past suddenly awoke shocked with memories that they had somehow forgotten. More than a few of them also remembering a jovial old grandfather figure pointing a stick of wood at them.

Before the night was over, the protesting Dursleys were being dragged in plain view to a police car by the officers, the news crew filming the early morning arrest with the huge list of evidence being presented of several years of systematic abuse being covered up for so long before finally being uncovered, with people coming up to offer their own statements.

Yet the people were left with one big question and dreadful worry. What had happened to that young boy? He never had a room of his own in the house, but the cupboard under the stairs was stained by blood and ashes, with remnants of an old blanket found with the name 'Harry' embroided into it with loving stitches, archaic in style it was still the only piece of comfort other than a lumpy throw-away pillow in that small narrow space, with a small basket of over-sized clothes the poor boy had been seen wandering in before.

The police eventually declared with dread that they suspected the boy had been killed by his relatives, and the whole case became a nightmare example of what kind of monsters could live with a lie fooling good people for such lengths. Something kept trying to hide details but it was too wide spread, and even as a few people ended up confused for a while, the sheer amount of them made sure the truth came out.

It began with the muggle-world, but eventually the news reached the Wizarding World as well, and the fate of their saviour became a hot topic. He was supposed to be safe and protected by people that Dumbledore had entrusted their national hero to. Finding out abuse and apparent death didn't sit well with any of them.

**Chapter End**

A/N: This is a weird little attempt I have in mind, of Harry in Another World to start off, but I plan to include Harry in Hogwarts experience to this as well, but whether it will begin at his 1st year in Hogwarts or later will remain to be seen.

I have a basic plot in mind while writing this but I am doing a bit of world-building along the way too. Second chapter will mostly be on Harry and the other world he is in, but I will try and keep up with both worlds.

This is a !Smart, !Grey, !Independant Harry story, along with !Bashing of Dumbledore, and possibly of the following people: Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, 3 Weasleys (Molly, Ron, Ginny).

Flamers will be treated like Howlers: left to burn themselves out while being ignored. I write because I enjoy it, I don't give a damn about flaming.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I am merely playing with other people's creations, I don't own the game/book/anime/tv-show I am borrowing from, nor am I making any money with this. I am writing for fun and practice, as fan-fiction to be shared with others if I feel like it.

**Chapter 02**

Harry awoke with a groan, sitting up and holding his aching head. His whole body felt sore but his head was aching so bad it was hard for him to focus. Unable to open his eyes, he could hear someone's approach and feel the softness of the unfamiliar mattress and sheets he had rested in, a voice soon speaking up.

"I am glad to see you have woken up child, but your body may not have recovered from your spectacular arrival yet. Drink this, it'll help." A glass' rim was pressed on his lips, and Harry swallowed as he was instructed to. The liquid had to be medicine, with that bitter taste, but he found to his relief the effect was almost immediate as his headache began to fade to the background, allowing him to focus a bit better. Sighing in relief and nodding his head in thanks, he opened his eyes, only to blink and stare at the person who had spoken to him.

The man before him had pale white hair, and a skin like ash. He had blood-red eyes and a slightly more angular face than Harry was used to, as well as sharpened ear-tips, but the look on his face was one of curiosity mingled with concern. Harry wasn't really sure what the man was, but though he looked similar to a human in ways, he was fairly sure that the stranger was something else.

"What's the matter, never seen a Dunmer before?" The man asked with some amusement, before shaking his head and taking a step to the nearby window, pulling the curtains open to let some light into the room. Looking around, Harry saw a pair of bookcases against the wall to his left, a desk against the wall on his right, the bed against the wall opposite of the window in front of him. There was a door out of the room on his right. It wasn't spacious, about the size of the smallest bedroom at Privet Drive, but it was definitely a step up from a cupboard.

"Let's try this then. My name is Alyn Soran, and I am a Magician of the Mages Guild. " He smiled gesturing at his chest, and then gesturing at Harry with an open palm held flat at level as he spoke and made the gesture, catching Harry's attention to the fact he had been merely looking around and listening, rather than answering even a word to the man who appeared to have taken care of him while he was unconscious.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to be rude. I am Harry, well Harry Potter actually. I am sorry sir, but I really haven't seen a Dunmer before and I have no idea how I got here. Last thing I remember is laying down to rest and then feeling like something inside of me broke." He wasn't going to tell about the condition he had laid down to rest in or what he had said before feeling himself break like that. He remembered but he didn't want to cause any trouble.

"Quite alright, though I am surprised, most people here in Cyrodiil run into one of my kind sooner or later though we are arguably far more common back at my homeland in Morrowind." He flashed the boy a smile, before taking a short breath and continuing. "You don't look like a Nord, definitely not a Redguard, but I am not sure if you are an Imperial or Breton then. I'd have to guess on Breton but please correct me if I am wrong. "

Harry shook his head, feeling a little confused still, but decided Breton sounded close enough to British that it might be the closest he would get around here. "I haven't even heard of Dunmer before sir, I don't think I am anywhere near my home. My homeland is called Britain, sir." His words were met with a curious look on the ashen man's face as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Fascinating. Well it is possible, though highly unusual. What happened here was that a large green flash illuminated an old watch-tower nearby, and the glow lasted in a dimmed fashion for several minutes before fading. When my companions and I came to investigate, we found you laying in the ruins. Given your young age I thought you as a mere witness to what took place, but it sounds like you were involved in this event as more than a spectator." He smirked faintly before shaking his head.

"I am glad you understand my words though, if you aren't from around here. I would advise that you claim to be a Breton with most people, it would be a lot easier than trying to explain your situation to every person you come across. Now, I took the liberty of examining your health during the two days you were laying unconscious, purely in the interest of seeing that you'd recover, and I believe you haven't had an easy life wherever you are from. I brewed some potions to help you recover from the worst damage I could find, but it'll probably take a while before you are back in full shape. You've grown a couple of inches too, so you might find yourself a little off balance too at first. My advice would be to rest for now, and get better. We'll see about what lays ahead later."

Harry wasn't used to laying down for long periods of time, his relatives made him work no matter how badly hurt he might be, but he had a lot to think about, he still felt a bit ill, and his body was aching and sore so the idea of sleeping a little longer seemed far too inviting. Closing his eyes, the young lad drifted off to sleep for the moment, the experience of having an actual bed to rest in a luxury he was making full use of during that convalescence.

**The Next Day**

Harry woke up the next morning to the enticing scent of food set nearby, a bowl of soup resting on the desk with a spoon already in place there, along with a jug of water and a glass. Rising up to his feet a bit woozily, he made his way over to eat, trying to get used to being a little taller, and feeling a lot better. The soup was simple fare but it took away the hunger, and after he ate Harry found his curiosity leading him to the bookshelves.

The various titles seemed to range from historical accounts to fictional stories, or at least he would assume so, but what caught his interest the most was a set of small books marked with strange little sigils. Opening the first one he found it contained instruction on how to focus on one's magic and use it to create a simple ball of light to float above the caster and provide them with illumination. It seemed to be a beginner's guide to magic, and simple without being condescending in tone.

After a couple of tries Harry found himself triumphantly gazing upon a small ball of light now floating above him and giving light to his surroundings. The couple of failed tries had sparked a bit of light but no intact ball to remain behind to shine it. Each time he tried, he felt a little more tired, but it wasn't like his body was tired, more like his mind grew tired instead. That feeling faded after a little moment at least, but Harry waited till he was feeling back to normal after a couple of minutes before opening the next book.

The words within explained to him what he had felt. Spending his magic to create the light would drain a bit of his magic away for a moment, but the space left empty by his casting would fill up again soon if he just stopped casting spells for a moment. Drinking potions could speed things up, and with practice he could grow the inner reserves of magic he had. The book also mentioned that the magical reserves tended to grow naturally with age, though the amount of growing they did depended on whether or not a person practiced with them.

The book then went on to describe a spell that Harry found most useful. A simple healing spell that he could cast upon himself any time he needed, that would help heal up little cuts and smooth bruises over, it wouldn't fix a broken bone on an instant but it would speed up the healing a lot. There was a lot to absorb in those pages, and Harry tried the spell a few times, feeling a small rush of warmth pass through him as he cast it. Given that he wasn't really hurt and didn't want to hurt himself just to test out if he had gotten the spell down right, he decided to move on to the next book soon after.

When Alyn entered the room a couple of hours later, he found to his surprise that Harry had a small stack of books already red set on the table on his right, with the rest of the beginner's guides to magic resting on his left to be read through next. From the looks of it, the boy had gone through the first six thin books already that explained the fundamental starting point, as well as providing a spell for each of the schools of magic, and had moved onto the thicker books. Though based on his expression he was finding less success with them, which didn't really surprise Alyn, they were not something a novice would be able to cast, they were apprentice level spells.

"I see you have found something to entertain yourself with. Do be careful, magic is interesting but it can also be dangerous if you don't approach it with the proper precautions." Smiling amusedly, he watched the young boy put the book down and close it hurriedly, bowing his head. "I am sorry sir, I just found it so curious I didn't think it through. I will put them back and won't touch them again if you don't want me to."

It was obvious he meant it, though he seemed to want to learn more. The way he was acting like he had been doing something bad while Alyn saw nothing wrong with his curiosity lead him to further wonder about he boy's treatment prior to his arrival to Cyrodiil. "Do not worry, I was young once too. You have already gone through the basics, did you have any success casting one of the spells?"

He then proceeded to watch in amazement the boy creating a protective shield of magic with Alteration, conjuring a bound dagger to his hand with Conjuration, and creating a small ball of fire (which he only created on his hand without throwing it around in the rook) with Destruction. That was amazing progress from someone who was just beginning to try things out for the first time, getting even half the spells was very promising from a novice, but Harry didn't stop there. He created a ball of light to shine upon himself with Illusion magic, and then dismissed with a quick application of dispelling from Mysticism, and finally healed the bit of burn on his fingers from holding the ball of fire instead of throwing it in his earlier demonstration, by doing a minor healing spell from the Restoration school.

"I am impressed Harry. This room was supposed to be used by an apprentice I would train one day but I haven't really felt ready to take one up yet, spending so much time out adventuring in the lands. I got it ready anyway when I moved in, so it was a good guest room to put you in for the duration of your recovery. Now I am thinking of putting it to its official use, and making you my apprentice. You may be young, but you have a talent for this Harry. Would you like to become an associate of the Mages Guild and start learning magic from me? You will be an apprentice, but the guild tracks people's progress by a system of ranks, and 'apprentice' is actually a rank that implies you have surpassed the level of a novice, something which I am sure you will do soon enough with my tutelage."

Harry was staring at the man in surprise, instead of scolding or being told to not touch the books again, he was being offered a chance to learn more. Nodding quickly he bowed his head and swallowed as he spoke up in a hurry. "I would very much like to learn more sir. Thank you sir, I won't let you down, I'll learn all I can and help out in any way I can to make up for the trouble of teaching me." This earned a short chuckle from the Dunmer man who shook his head amusedly.

"I have no doubts that you will do great Harry. Now, learning in your room is one thing, but I have set up rooms for practice down in the basement for the spells you will learn later on. The target range will help you practice your Destruction spells, or work on your archery if you want to learn a bit about weapons as well. I would suggest you do actually, as you have no doubt already found out that eventually every mage will find themselves short of magic and tired. It is those times when a little practice with even a dagger can come in handy to protect yourself long enough to catch your breath and return to casting."

"Yes sir." Harry nod his head happily, feeling excited at the prospect of learning magic. While part of him worried it was all a dream so far removed from anything normal just because his relatives hated all of that, he was starting to feel it was a dream he could get lost in. No thoughts of wanting to go home even crossed his mind, his home was with his parents that died when he was but a baby, and his relatives had never made him part of their family, they were not his family, and their house was not his home. Perhaps now he had actually found a home though.

**Britain, Hogwarts at the same time**

Albus Dumbledore had a major headache. The Dursley trials were too widely known to interfere with, the police had too much evidence, too many people had learned the truth, and it was impossible to get the cat back in the bag. The events had slipped out of his control, and started an avalanche blowing away his carefully made plans.

With the Dursleys looking at life in prison for the way they had acted, it was unlikely he could pull them out of the system and make everyone forget about all that took place. It was too widely known, even if the ministry had given him all their obliviators there were just too many who had seen the news about them and would question things if the trials suddenly vanished.

Worse, it had hit international news on slow newsweek, before the photographs of the boy's misery in the small cupboard and witness accounts had tarnished the Dursley reputation world-wide. The muggles were outraged, but the half-bloods and muggleborn that brought news of it to the Wizarding World after connecting the name Harry Potter, the abused, missing nephew of abusive relatives with the Harry Potter, hidden savior of wizarding world had really lit a bonfire of rage. Howlers had been flooding his office and the ministry asking how their cherished boy-hero could have been treated so horribly, and grown up being abused.

Despite his best efforts and a lot of coaching from the headmaster's portraits in his office to put up a most grandfatherly, kind image, he had been unable to pretend he was blameless on the matter. He had been thrown out of the Wizengamot, and the ICW hadn't even bothered with a hearing, they had drawn up earlier statements from their archives that Dumbledore had given that the boy was growing up happy and safe. They were enough to bar him from ever being allowed to set a foot in the ICW chambers again, reducing his political pull to a fraction of what it once was.

The goblins had caught onto his little manipulations long ago, and his attempts at legilimency had been rebuffed by goblin minds being too alien for him to twist and break into with any subtlety, leaving him once barred from Gringotts as well. He had marched in and laid down the law with a few well made forgeries with the signatures of people who trusted him well enough to sign what would have been an illegal threat, simply because they trusted Albus Dumbledore they didn't need to read it first. He had pushed his way to the bank then with the power he had in Wizengamot, and if he couldn't manipulate the goblins, he would intimidate, bribe and extort them to do as he wanted.

Yet his power was crumbling all around him, and Albus Dumbledore was not happy. The board of Governors had acted on Minerva McGonagall's warning and confirmed that ever since Severus Snape began teaching the number of Potion Newts had gone down from double digits to just enough to count with one hand's fingers with some fingers still left to spare each year, leading to a prompt and unceremonious sacking.

The school was supposed to be his domain but Minerva had gone around him, and because of that Severus had been forced to stop teaching. Albus had told him to stay at school still, while he would try and get the sacking overturned. Hiring and firing teachers was his right, not that of the board, and he planned to make that clear in the next meeting. Lucius Malfoy should have been on his side about that issue at least, Severus was after all a person known to favor the Slytherin. All the better to get all those whiny little pureblood princes to one house to build up resentment between them and the Gryffindors, who in turn would happily follow their Leader of the Light to Hell and back if Albus Dumbledore told them to.

"Could this day get any worse?" He grumbled aggravatedly, before a letter arrived to his desk. The Gringotts seal on it promised nothing good, but he opened it anyway, wanting to get it done with. Reading through, his fingers clenched into a fist, his teeth grinding together aggravatedly.

_"Mr. Dumbledore,_

_As the Potter Heir has gone missing the Potter Vaults have been sealed until further notice. Furthermore as per the family instructions, any profits made from the family owned business will be once more deposited to the family vaults. No withdrawals will be possible, only magical deposits of the gold their investments have created. _

_Likewise, the Potter seat on the Wizengamot has thus been declared inactive, and no longer requires a proxy. Until the Potter heir is found or declared dead the vaults and seat shall remain in this state. _

_We inform you in accordance to the charter signed at 1607 that the relevant documentation will be turned over to the MLE for confirmation, and suggest you deliver the other documents related to your guardianship to the head of MLE as soon as possible._

_Yours in Profit,_

_Skullbreaker"_

Gnashing his teeth he wanted to scream and rage. They were turning the payments back to the Potter vaults which meant he couldn't fund the Order of the Phoenix with them without getting Harry back so he could have the boy turn control over those accounts to him. Worse, the MLE would want him to provide documents of how he had taken care of the family property, something he was loathe to do. He would have to get a good forgery made soon.

**End Chapter**

A/N: Alright, a few things to comment on I suppose.

Dumbledore - I am not even trying to make Albus seem like a competent Manipulative Old Bastard in this. He had been riding on his fame and the fact the wizarding world seems to have a distinct lack of Common Sense at times. He has tried some smart ideas, but he's getting old and failing at things from time to time. He will play a part, but he is losing things and not enjoying it at all. Albus Dumbledore thinks that the world should give him all he is due, and is having a hard time adjusting to the fact it doesn't do so anymore.

Conduit of **Worlds **- I am planning to have Harry wander across several worlds, both settings from animes/games/books/tv-series etc, and original ones. There's a few things in mind already, others that are a touch more open to be determined later.

Cyrodiil - Elder Scrolls: Oblivion would be the game to draw inspiration on this world, but I am using a bit of advanced plot in time, the Oblivion Crisis has passed but the end results were different, the most important point would be that there's still an Emperor of Septim Lineage, and the Thalmor invasion that came was ruthlessly crushed and thus the Empire stands strong and there has been no Civil War in Skyrim.

Harry - I am planning to have Harry travel and learn a fair share, and to try and make use of it. I doubt he'll have much to learn from Dumbledore by the time he does return to Britain, but he still has to deal with Voldemort eventually.

Voldemort - While I am mocking Dumbledore, I am considering making Voldemort more powerful and sinister in turn to balance things a little bit at least, if Harry gains power then Voldemort has to start higher in terms of power and gain some of his own. I am by no means planning to have a Mega Harry just walking in at the end and curbstomping Voldemort.


End file.
